


Angst Prompt--There's So Much Blood

by AgentInfinity



Series: Prompts and Such [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, M/M, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 11:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17848379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentInfinity/pseuds/AgentInfinity
Summary: Enjolras finally finds him.





	Angst Prompt--There's So Much Blood

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm doing prompts now, hey fun! I started with angst prompts, hey tears! I'm going to be cross-posting them to AO3 as I go, but if you want to see them on tumblr first, I'm [here](http://agentxinfinity.tumblr.com). But for serious, mind the tags, folks, and if you have questions about that maybe major character death part, just hit up the end notes. Thanks to the anon who sent the prompt. You're the reason for all this sadness. <3

“I think I’m done now. You’re safe, Apollo.” Enjolras struggled to remember how to breathe, staring unblinkingly down at Grantaire as he knelt in the frozen dirt outside the old factory. The gun slipped from Grantaire’s fingers and dropped to the ground, empty and now useless. Unceremoniously, Grantaire’s eyes rolled back in his head and he pitched sideways, landing hard, too weak to catch himself even the tiniest bit. Enjolras sprung into movement, the suddenness of Grantaire’s fall breaking his state of shock, but he was too slow, too far away to keep his boyfriend’s temple from bouncing off the hard-packed earth.

He dropped to his knees next to Grantaire’s pitifully broken body, not knowing where he could touch without causing further pain or harm. He desperately wanted to soothe him, but he was terrified and completely out of his depth as Grantaire’s rattling breaths took more and more effort as the seconds ticked past. He settled for stroking his fingers across Grantaire’s forehead and down his cheek, wincing at the feverish heat still radiating from him even in the freezing weather. The skin that wasn’t bloody or grimy was red and blotchy, hair matted and glued into the scrapes and cuts with caked-on blood and dirt.

How long had he been kept in this godforsaken place? If Enjolras hadn’t found him, would he have given up by now? Tears welled in his eyes, unable to be pushed back, and a sob escaped his throat. The sound wasn’t even familiar to him. He sounded like a wounded animal, hopeless and terrified.

“Grantaire, please, open your eyes. Please! R,” he cried, holding his face in his hands and bending to press his forehead against Grantaire’s. “Please, just open your fucking eyes,” he whispered, unable to keep the desperation from seeping out of every syllable. Finally, a groan escaped his cracked lips and he opened his eyes, squinting against the weak and watery winter sun.

“Whassit, Enj. ‘M so...tired.” Grantaire’s voice was barely audible, slurred and stuttered, blinking heavily every couple seconds as if it took a tremendous amount of effort to keep his eyes open and talk at the same time.

“Just stay with me, R. Eponine and Jehan are on the way. Please, just stay awake.” A dopey smile spread across Grantaire’s mouth when he was finally able to focus on Enjolras’ face and realized he was actually there.

“I’m here, E. Zeus ‘imself couldn’t pull me ‘way.” An awful, wracking cough ripped its way out of Grantaire’s throat, his arms automatically clenching over his chest as if he thought he’d otherwise come apart. Enjolras sank down all the way to the ground and propped Grantaire’s head in his lap, trying to stroke his fingers through the strands, but they were too tangled and matted. “Not from you, babe,” he rasped, dripping thick blood from his mouth. “Not from you.”

Enjolras looked down at the rest of his body. A thin slashed open t-shirt hung in tatters around his torso unable to hide the slashes and burns that coated his skin there. At least two of his chest wounds were sickeningly deep, still steadily weeping blood onto the ground beneath them. His jeans were soaked in blood spatter and full of rips, but mostly intact where it mattered. Enjolras wasn’t sure how much of the blood was from Grantaire and how much was from his adrenaline-fueled killing rampage when he had noticed that Enjolras not only there, but also in danger.

“I’m going to hold you to that, R,” he whispered, trying for a smile, but probably not succeeding. 

The sounds of tires on gravel and an engine that was being pushed past its limit pulled Enjolras’ attention from Grantaire’s poorly-disguised expression of pain. Jehan came careening over the hill, skidding sideways toward them. Enjolras had a split second of horror where he imagined the car skating right over them, smearing them together into the ground, but Jehan stopped neatly, all the rocks and dirt thrown in the opposite direction.

“Thank christ. They’re here, R,” Enjolras said, looking back down at Grantaire and noticing that his eyes were closed once more, not tightly as if in pain, but peacefully, as if he was sleeping.

“God fucking dammit, Grantaire, wake up!” he cried, smacking at his cheeks, the cold vice of fear gripping his chest and turning him hysterical. Strong arms pulled him backward and away as he tried to pry the offender off of him, only vaguely realizing that it was Jehan. Eponine had rolled Grantaire onto his back and had two fingers pressed just behind the angle of his jawline.

“He’s not dead, not yet,” she informed them, voice flat and deliberately even. Then quieter, “There’s so much blood, though. Fuck.” She continued to take stock of the injuries she could see as Jehan lessened his stronghold on Enjolras’ arms.

“If I let you go, can you keep it together?” he asked, his mouth so close to Enjolras’ right ear that he could feel Jehan’s breath on it.

“Yes, please. Just--just help him.” He felt rather than saw Jehan nod, and then he was on his own, watching as the two worked quietly, pulling tools and supplies from the bag Eponine had been carrying.

It wasn’t loud or frantic like on TV. Their movements were measured and precise, and Enjolras was completely fucking useless. He was rooted to the spot as he watched them work in tandem to save the single most important person in his life.

Sitting there on the freezing ground, with the cold seeping into this clothes and deeper into his bones, he sat motionless and blank. For an indeterminate amount of time, sound bled out of the scene and the world narrowed down to a pinpoint with Grantaire’s slack face at the center. 

Eponine suddenly snapped her head up and said something to Jehan, but Enjolras couldn’t make it out. He figured it out soon enough, though, as Jehan began doing chest compressions, pausing only for Eponine to breathe into Grantaire’s mouth at some interval with which he was unfamiliar. Intellectually, he knew he should react, but he wasn’t able. His eyes took in the whole scene, finally falling on the trail of blood Grantaire had left as he’d limped out of the building, a path of carnage and viscera carved in his wake.

There was so much blood, Enjolras didn’t think he’d ever again be able to see the color red and not think of this scene. Jehan tearily but viciously doing CPR as Eponine injected drug after drug into Grantaire’s arm, feeling for a pulse and breathing air into his lungs every time Jehan paused his movements. Enjolras wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed until his fingers went numb.

Yes, red was ruined for Enjolras.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a fade to black at the end where Grantaire is having CPR performed on him.
> 
> Once again, my tumblr can be found [here](http://agentxinfinity.tumblr.com) if you have a prompt to send. No promises on time frames, but I am working through them in my free time in an attempt to write more, so feel free, even on anon.


End file.
